


Pandora's seriously messed up

by TheEdd1sOut



Category: Borderlands (Video Games), Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 03:59:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17134526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEdd1sOut/pseuds/TheEdd1sOut





	Pandora's seriously messed up

Rhys didn't know what had happened. All he knew was he was on Pandora, half dead, with everything aching. His mechanical arm was spazzing out, most of it missing.

A dust-covered, rusting van pulled up next to him and three people jumped out of the back. They were saying something that Rhys couldn't make out. With his Echo-Implants damaged, his hearing aid was malfunctioning.

What looked like the leader walked up. "P-im-n-b-ck." He squatted down next to Rhys and he could see him more clearly.

"J-Jack?"

Then everything faded out to nothing.

When Rhys finally came to, he was lying on a cold table in a dark room. He started to turn his head to see more when a hand stopped him.

"D-nt-ove," the voice said. "St-s-ll."

That voice. He'd heard that voice before. He knew it. Somehow.

There was a click and a buzz and he slowly started to hear properly again.

"N-w, isn-tha-better?"

Rhys looked up to see Jack's face, smiling down at him.

"Comfortable?"  
"N-not really," Rhys replied, surprised at his own voice. He hadn't heard it in a while.

Jack chuckled. "Well at least you've got humour, so when you die you'll be able to laugh."

"What?"

"Well, now that you're not on the edge of death, you have to participate in the arena fights, where you'll be pushed off said edge," Jack replied. He got a syringe with orange liquid out of his pocket and plunged it into Rhys' arm.

Rhys stood up, his legs shaking, but feeling better.

"Outside this room there is a crowd that will either be cheering for your victory or your inevitable horribly painful death. And spoiler alert, it's probably the latter." They locked eyes and Jack put his hand on Rhys' shoulder. "Good luck," he let his arm fall back down and smiled. "Not that it'll make a difference."

Rhys was then brought out into harsh sunlight, chanting so loud, filling his thoughts. He was pushed to he ground catching his fall with his arm. He looked up and spat out sand.

On the other side of he arena, there stood a big brute, his bulging biceps plastered with blood and dirt. He twirled his cleaver around and smiled. 

"I'm gonna enjoy playing with you!" shouted the giant psycho. Then he started running forward, his stomps kicking up immense amount of dirt and sand.

As the psycho ran up and brought down his cleaver, Rhys dodged, rolling to the side. The cleaver smacked into the sand, and the psycho expertly tilted it sideways and swiped at Rhys.

Rhys flushed himself back into the dirt as the cleaver scraped his cheek. The psycho lifted up a fist and slammed it onto Rhys' chest, pinning him down. Rhys struggled underneath the psycho's fist, trying to push it up with his one functioning hand as the psycho raised up his cleaver.

He brought it down but Rhys blocked the blow with what's left of his mechanical arm.

"Arm not flesh! Cheating! Cheater, cheater, cheater!!!" The psycho screamed.

Rhys felt something in his pocket. He stopped attempting to pry away the hand and reached into his pocket. A Vault hunter's knife. He didn't care how he got it now, he just wanted to live! He clawed it out and held it to the psycho.

The psycho brought his cleaver off of the malfunctioning arm as its hand fell off at the wrist.

Rhys turned the blade to the psycho's chest and thrust it in between the ribs, sinking it in deep, blood beginning to spill out the side.

"Owie! No... Fair!" The psycho coughed.

Rhys brought the knife out, then stuck it back in at it's side. He pulled it back again and plunged it into the psycho's neck, who was coughing up blood, spilling out through the breathing holes of its mask and out the bottom, down the neck.

The psycho fell back, sliding off the knife and bringing up a cloud of dust. And as it settled the crowd let out a roar of excitement. Rhys wiped blood off his face with the back of his hand.

Jack came out to Rhys, smiling. "Not bad, kid. Not bad at all."

Rhys smiled back as he passed out, feeling Jack's arms catch him.

Rhys woke up yet again, this time on a more comfortable bed. His eyes slowly opened to Jack leaning over him on a chair.  
He saw the string and needle in Jack's hand.

"This'll hurt quite a bit, but please don't scream like a sissy."

Rhys flinched and screwed up his face as Jack started expertly threading the needle through Rhys' cheek, the pain falling down to a dull ache. "The-the knife," Rhys stammered. "You gave that to me, didn't you? When you put your hand on my shoulder?"

Jack didn't speak for a minute, still threading the needle through Rhys' flesh. "Well I wouldn't want the only other person here who isn't completely brain dead dying on me, would I?"

"How did you get it?" Rhys asked.

Jack pulled the last stitch through and cut off the string. "I got it from... a friend. Now, you need more rest still for it to heal, so just lay back and relax," he said.

Rhys drifted off while Jack leaned back in the chair beside the bed, eagerly awaiting tomorrow.


End file.
